


Septiplier Oneshots

by Happy_Pill



Category: Septiplier - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Random & Short, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-11-30
Packaged: 2018-08-13 21:23:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7986673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Happy_Pill/pseuds/Happy_Pill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[ Warning: New to Writing ]</p><p>   This is basically just a fic filled with oneshots from different ideas I get at random moments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to this whole 'fanfiction writing' thing. Scratch that, I'm new to writing period. Please do not expect anything.

[ Found this on Tumblr: 

"we were both at this party and you were the designated driver but i was too drunk to give you my address so i woke up in your bed and commented on how you were way out of my league before realizing we didn't sleep together au"

Felt obligated to write this shit: ]

Waking up with a hangover was expected. Waking up in nothing but boxers in a random bedroom was not. 

He should have expected this though. There are times where he tends to get a bit too... physical when he was drunk. Usually though, Felix, his best friend, drags his ass back home before he does any collateral damage to anything. But Felix wasn't by his side, he had actually hosted the party. He and his girlfriend had finally hit the five-year mark, and being the social butterfly that Felix was, he wanted to celebrate with everyone before he went on vacation with the beautiful Italian.  
So if anything, it was his own fault that he was in some _-probably-_ stranger's bedroom. He should have been responsible and actually looked after himself. But then again, he was completely consumed by the happy atmosphere and didn't think that one drink would hurt... but somehow, he ended up here.

With a groan, the green-haired Irishman rolled over in the bed, burying himself further in the sheets. He knew that he should be worried about where he was but... for one thing, he was exhausted and had the worst headache of a lifetime. For another, the sheets were way too fucking soft. He was not going to waste an opportunity to lay on a piece of the sky. And he had to admit, he was also a bit used to waking up in someone else's bedroom after an entire night of drinking. I mean, Felix couldn't take care of him all the time now, could he?

All he can do is face the music and get over it. With luck the dame, or dude, he fucked around with was cool with all of this. The last thing he wanted right now was some sort of early morning drama, and yes, that did happen, once or twice. Dealing those kinds of situations with a hangover is the absolute _worst_. Having several poundings in your head while being yelled at was not the best thing in the world.  
So yes, don't blame the guy if he wants to continue laying on a bit of heaven called a bed and avoid the world for a little while longer.

But as soon as that thought crossed the his mind, he heard three soft knocks on the door.

With a bit of hate at the universe and a tired sigh, he mumbled at the person to come in. He was still in the position of being in a blanket burrito though.

"Hey, are you awake?" a deep voice rumbled from behind. It was a dude then.

"Yea, I'm awake." says the Irishman.

"I'm assuming you have a bit of a hangover so I have a glass of water and some aspirin." the male continues in his surprisingly alluring voice. Soft padded footsteps approached the bed. The Irishman felt the bed dip and knew the guy was sitting next to his somewhat-asleep body.

Grudgingly, he sat up, and turned to see a really, really good-looking dude. And it isn't even 'oh, he's bangable' good-looking dude. He is the full on _'I would fuck him so hard'_ good-looking dude. (For all he knew he probably ended up power-bottoming the fucking guy.) He was wearing shorts and a sleeveless top, which just made him stare at his muscled arms. He could tell the guy has some abs, and a bit of a thick ass. He does not even know what to say about his handsome face. If anything-

"You are definitely out of my league." 

"Excuse me?" the dyed red haired man looks confusedly at the dyed green haired one.

"You're waaaay too focking good-looking to _have done the nasty_ with _me_ last night." he deadpans.

The man chuckles, which made the green-haired man shiver a bit. "U-Um, although flattering, we haven't exactly 'done the nasty' as you so eloquently put."

A beat passes. Blue eyes looked into brown. Despair crosses over the man's features as the realization sinks in.

"Wait, so we didn't...?"

"E- yup." he says popping the 'p.'

"And I haven't...?"

"As much as you wanted to, no."

"Oh God." And he places his face in between his hands, blushing way too hard. "Please forget I said anythin'." 

Amidst his embarrassment, he tried to think of what could have possibly happened last night. It was a haze, but he could remember being outside, probably yelling, or ranting, about something or other. He could remember being with someone else, and the distant sound of music in the background. If he _really_ thought about it, he might have even recalled something about Felix dragging him into a car and someone else asking where he lives.

The man laughs hard this time, and puts an arm over the blushing one. "Nope, I don't think I will."

"Asshole." he mumbles.

"My name is Mark, just so you know, and I was actually the designated driver."

Mark, _it sounded a bit familiar_ , put the glass on the nightstand and got one of the Irishman's hands out of his face, placing the aspirin on top of his palm.

"And you are?" he gestures, his face a bit too smug.

"Sean, but most people call me Jack," he says. "an' I'm so sorry that I assumed..." 

"S'cool, _Jack_ " Mark says and walks to the open door. He turns back and smiles at Jack. "Not everyday that I get a little hot stuff on my bed in the morning."

Jack blushes as Mark laughs, leaving the bedroom. Breakfast was going to be hella awkward. For one of them, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm terrible. Not sorry though


	2. We Don't Talk Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been listening to the song 'We Don't Talk Anymore - Charlie Puth' way too much, and somehow, this became a thing.

I miss you. |

[ Send Message? ]

He hesitated, his fingers ghosting atop the options.

[ No. Message saved to Drafts. ]

A long sigh escaped his lips. What was he doing? He shouldn't be doing stuff like this anymore. Shouldn't even be _thinking_ about it anymore. He shouldn't be scrolling through the pictures he has of him. Shouldn't be sitting at his desk, staring longingly into his phone. Shouldn't have made a message like that. Because he knows it won't make a difference. He knows that anything he does is all for naught. Letting out another sigh, he placed his phone on his desk.

Shouldn't he feel better though? He finally got a clear answer. After all this time of tip-toeing around each other, avoiding whatever this _thing_ between them was, he finally knew what he thinks. What he feels. He should be celebrating since he finally _knows_.

The ache in his chest begs to differ though.

Groaning in frustration, he shook his head, letting the dyed green locks fall down his forehead. It was not the time to thing about such stupid things. Not now, not ever.

He's supposed to be making videos anyways. Not looking a some random spot in the corner. The reason why he was sitting on his desk chair was to make a video, and that is what he's going to do. After doing the usual prep work, Jack slapped his cheeks and placed a smile on his face. "Let's do this."

***

I miss you. |

[ Send Message? ]

A silent question hung in the air... should he?

[ No. Message saved to Drafts ]

With a silent groan, he lay back down on the sheets, dyed red hair pooling the pillow. What was he doing? He shouldn't be doing things like that, it's stupid. He doesn't even send the message either. And he shouldn't, it would make things complicated.  
Well, more complicated than it already is. 

But he shouldn't be thinking about it anymore. He made his choice. He gave his answer. There is no turning back from that point. He made it clear to him exactly what he felt.  
Or what he thought he felt.

With another groan he buried his head under the sheets. It was way too late at night - _or was it too early now?_ \- to have some sort of weird introspection about his feelings. He should just go back to sleep and pretend this _thing_ never happened. Just forget about all of it. That's what he wanted after all.  
Right?

Like the half-awake genius he usually is, he decided that looking through his phone would definitely keep his mind off it. What a great idea, avoid the problem by looking at the problem. Gold star for trying.

In the end, scrolling through the several photos on his phone didn't seem to help. But seeing the Irishman, smiling like nothing mattered, his eyes shining with delight, It made him feel less lonely. It made him want to smile. Even just a little bit.

Like it never happened.

***

"-PUNCH that like button in the face! LIKE A BOSS!! And, high fives all around. *Whapish, *Whapish. But thank you guys and I will see all you dudes, IN THE NEXT VIDEO!!"

Smiling, still giddy Jack had finished the video with another silly comment at the end. He sent the footage to his editor, and logged on Tumblr. 

Jack always felt amazing after making a video. He feels energetic and vitalized, always happy to make content for the channel's subscribers. He always feels so thankful for every single person who's been on the channel. He's just so grateful to end up with a job that he actually enjoys doing. Just happy to be a part of Youtube in general. He loves seeing the messages on various social media, and tries his best to interact with everyone in the community. It's just inexplicable, this happiness.

He laughed and smiled as he read the messages and saw all the cool fanart on his dashboard. He stopped when he saw another picture of him. He turned away from his screen.

#septiplier

_They don't know, they don't know, they don't know_

And they never will, Mark made sure of that.

The green-haired man sighed. It was depressing how much the man seems to cross his mind. Then again, he was everywhere. On his Tumblr, Instagram, Twitter, just on his social media. And even if he turned off the wifi for God knows why, he still has pictures of him on his phone, shirts in his closet, memories in his mind. He can't make him disappear. No matter what he does, Mark's just forever stained in his heart.

But that doesn't matter, not anymore. And it never should. He should just learn to live with it now. 

It still hurts though.

***

He was sick. 

He was sick to the point that his throat just sounds like two gorillas grinding against each other, with a rock in between them.  
But he still made a video anyway. It was short, and it was stupid, but he did it anyway. He did not want to miss an upload. He wanted to post some wonderful content for the wonderful people who watch his channel. It'll be fine anyways. He'll live.

Laying back down on the sheets that he's become oh-so familiar with, he scrolled through his twitter. He laughed at the few of the tweets and favourited some of them. He even replied -because why not?- and felt a bit better. Emotionally.  
He stopped when he saw a picture of him and Jack, with the obvious #septiplier in the tweet.

He shut his eyes.  
_They didn't know_  
And they never will. He made sure of that.

But he can still see Jack everywhere, on social media, on his phone, on his clothes no longer in his closet. On the memories etched deep into his mind. On his thoughts, awake and asleep. On his heart, scarred deep.

But he shouldn't be thinking about that anymore. He should just move on with his life just like he wanted.

He feels like he hasn't.

***

_"I'm sorry Jack."_ he can still hear that tone of his voice, it seems like he's holding something back. Was he afraid that time? As afraid as he was?

_"This isn't how it's supposed to be."_ He can hear the tiredness in his voice. The absolute exhaustion he feels. It only made him angrier.

_"I'm so sorry Jack."_ Did he even mean that? 

***

_"Mark, what are ya sayin?"_ He can still see the sadness in his eyes, the hurt in his voice. He can feel it in his chest, the mixed emotions, the confusion. The fear.

_"Then how is it supposed to be then?"_ The frustration, the anger, in his voice. The pain in his blue eyes. 

_"Fuck you! Fuck you, Mark!!"_ There were tears rolling down his face. He's shattered, and it's his fault. And - _I'm so fucking sorry Jack, I'm so sorry_ -

***

On the guise of the camera, everything is fine. They laugh, they talk, they joke around and pretend to flirt. They have fun. And for a while they can pretend nothing is going on. When they're with their friends or on social media, it looks as though everything is absolutely fine. They can both put up a charade and just pretend.

When they send actual, personal messages to each other though, it feels strained. Polite.  
They know that eventually, it will get better between them. But it won't go back to it ever was before. Not after something like this.


	3. College AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea why, but player!Mark and punk!Jack always come to my mind when I think of a college/highschool au.

Everyone in campus knows about him. 

About his looks and great personality. About how despite he's in a fraternity, he's nice to others and is somehow near the top of the class. How loving he is to his family and how caring he is to his friends. They know about how much of a golden boy he seems to be. 

Everyone also knows about the way he plays hearts like a game.

How every other week, some poor soul would think, _I could be the one he falls in love with_ , and the next day, they're nursing a broken heart. They know about how many girlfriends or boyfriends he's had in a week and how they all never last long enough. How kind he still is despite how many people he's been with.

But nobody knows that his heart already belongs to someone else.

Except for one.

"Mark!!" Felix, the head of the fraternity house Mark is a part of, came scrambling towards him like a madman. His now dyed hair was covered in a beanie, and he was wearing his usual sweater with jeans.

"So this may sound crazy-"

"Felix, No."

"But you haven't even got to hear what I was going to say!" He says, and crosses his arms.

"I probably know what you're going to say anyway." Mark replies, rolling his eyes at his friends abrupt childishness. The artificially red-haired man doubts as to why their friendship is still existing.

"Well prove it then." The Swedish student counters,

"It's probably something about Jack-"

"As if that isn't obvious enough." Felix interrupts.

"-and how you have some sort of brilliant plan to make him fall in love with me." Mark continued.

Jack was the new guy in the campus. But he wasn't a freshman, rather, he was a transfer student like Felix. And people knew not to mess with him. Just by looking at his appearance: black shirt, black jeans, piercings, people knew he was bad news. Mark though, was captivated and curious about him ever since the Irishman first walked the halls. He was careful though, and kept it tightly under wraps. No one was able to pick up on it. _Except Felix._

"Ah-ha!!" Felix yells, "But that's the thing! I do _not_ have a brilliant plan to make him fall in love with you."

"Then what else could possibly involve Jack that does not involve your stupid plans?" Mark was irritated now. 

"Well..." Felix sends Mark a look.

It takes a beat, and then the realization hits.

"Oh no. No no no no no. No!" Mark says crossing his arms wildly.

"Aw, come on, Mark!! This is your chance!! _And it wasn't easy to get him to agree to this either, you know._ " Felix mumbled the last part, but Mark heard it anyway.

"I am not doing this Felix!"

"But Mark-"

"NO, how the fuck did you even- NO!" he yells to Felix's ugly pug face.

"Look, Mark, do this for me and I won't bother with you about it anymore. _I promise._ "

Mark raised an eyebrow at that statement. Felix tends to be silly with everything he does, but he takes his promises seriously.

Doubting, he sighed. "All right, I'll do it."

"Great!!" His smug tone does not go unnoticed. "Well, I'll text you the details, for now, I have to head to Marzia's." His grin told Mark that yes, he was going to tell her about this. 

Mark sighed and nodded his head in goodbye as Felix left.

Groaning in despair, Mark arrived to his apartment and immediately went into his bedroom. As soon as he was able, Mark jumped into the bed. 

Yes, he was in an apartment and not a dorm. Mark did not feel like paying to share with someone that would most likely be an asshole to him. His mom was very generous to comply to this request, but then again, the dorms were expensive. He didn't move into the frat house either since it seemed too much work to move to another place when he already has his own. It was too much of a hassle, so he stayed where he was.

But anyways, if you didn't get what Felix was yapping about earlier, well... he had been sending Mark various calls and messages about setting him up on a blind date. Mark literally saw no appeal in that since every single one of his friends had attempted that at least once. It all ended the same way: _badly_. Due to this, Mark had been avoiding him for at least two weeks. But now that he knows who the blind date is with, and why Felix was so excited, he just wanted to scream in embarrassment.

This is not going to work.

*** 

The next day was just filled with nerve-wrecking anxiety. He cannot do this. He absolutely cannot do this. Why did he even agree to this again? Oh yeah, he was an idiot.

At least he was dressed nice. Unlike his usual flannel, Mark was dressed in a gray hoodie with red accents and jeans that seemed way too tight for his liking. T'was simple since it was Felix who banged on his door then forced him to wear it. When asked why, Felix told him to have faith and not question it. Then he dropped Mark at the location and drives off, shouting 'good luck' like it mattered.

Mark was waiting on a park bench, which was literally in front of a cafe. _How convenient of Felix to choose this place._ Tapping his foot, and twisting his thumbs in an attempt to feel a bit more at ease was definitely not helping.

"Hey, are you Mark?"

At the sound of the Irish accent, Mark knew who it was.

"Yeah." He looked up.

Jack's blue eyes were the first thing he saw. It was the deepest blue and the softest they'd always been. His ears were pierced with black stud earrings and his right eyebrow had a silver piercing as well. He was dressed in a black shirt with black jeans ripped at the knees.

"Jack, nice to finally meet ya." He says, shaking Mark's hand. "Felix wouldn't shut up about you."

"Oh really now?" Mark replied. _I'll kill you, Felix._ "I've heard a bit about you as well."

"Good things, I hope."

Mark smiled at that. "Let's head into the cafe."

***

Jack was laughing his ass off at what Mark said. The way he laughed was so contagious and so genuine, it caused Mark to grin. The way how Jack's smile can immediately light up an entire room just made everything so much better. Despite how he looks, he was a really funny, energetic man who had a lot of laughter to give.

Mark had to admit, things were going well for once. It also helped that he and Jack seemed to have a lot in common, one of those being video games.

"I'm havin' a pretty good time, Mark." Jack says suddenly. He looks sincere in saying that. Mark's heat skips a beat.

"Me too." Mark replies.

Underneath the table, Mark's knee hits Jack's. They smile.

"It's too bad Felix doesn't know about us ay?" Jack says, a coy smile on his lips.

"Che, I'm surprised he hasn't figured it out yet." Mark knew Jack was enjoying this just as much as he was. 

"Should we have mercy on the poor soul and just tell him?" Jack suggests, but his mischievous eyes say otherwise.

"Nah." Mark smirks. "This is way too much fun."

There was a reason why the apartment was cheaper than staying at the dorm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Predictable endings LOL


	4. Train to Busan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I watched the movie 'Train to Busan' the other day, and I couldn't help but think of these two when I saw a certain scene.
> 
> For those who haven't seen the movie, beware of spoliers? IDK if this counts.

They have to get to the other train. They have to keep going.

Rocks beneath their feet, the two walked cautiously towards a train car. One of them, hair dyed red, walked protectively in front of a green haired one, a baseball bat in his hand. His shoulders were tense, and he was clearly on guard. Behind him, the green haired man walked silently. Though it wasn't obvious, he was limping. 

The red-head approached the train car. Wordlessly, he guided the other behind him, moving him to the car's side. He checked the windows to see if _anything_ was inside. Meanwhile, the other was double-checking their surroundings, making sure to be alert in case _something_ approached.

"Jack, wait a bit." The words were barely spoken, but Jack nodded, hearing him perfectly. 

Mark hopped up the train, and turned his head from side to side. To his relief, it was clear. He turned to help Jack in, only to see him trying to do so with his good foot. Sighing worriedly, Mark moved to help Jack up the train. Jack snorted at his companion's expression. He was obviously in mother hen mode again. Mark smiled a bit at Jack's snort, but helped him up anyway. Jack sent him a cheeky grin when he was doing so. Mark actually felt like laughing.

They knew each other well enough to know what the other was thinking. They didn't need words, most of the time.

Once Jack was in the train, Mark moved to the door on the other side. Grunting, he tried to open it, but it was shut, damaged to the point of being completely sealed off. Mark knew that the only choice was to try and break open the window. The breath he released was anxious, but he knew it was either this or risk trying to find another way.

They had to keep moving.

Mark used his baseball bat and hit the window. Again, and again.  
Seeing what he was doing, Jack took a device at the top of the train door. Usually, it was to help open the door via handle, but this was basically the same thing. Helping Mark, Jack hit the window. Again, and again.

Finally, the window was starting to crack. Mark let out an internal _whoop!_ at that, and hit the thing harder.

Before he knew it, Jack was screaming.

Mark turned to see Jack being bitten on his bad leg.

_He was bitten. He was bitten. He was bitten. He was bitten._

In a rage, he hit the fucking corpse. Over and over and over. He hit with all his strength, all his frustration, all his hate. The fucking parasite bit Jack. After all they'd done to get here, the fucking thing bit Jack.  
He wasn't satisfied even when the thing stopped moving. He just kept hitting and hitting and hitting.

He didn't stop until the thing's head was mostly a piled mush of flesh.

Huffing, he let go off the baseball bat, and immediately went to Jack's side. Carefully, he pulled Jack's spazzing body unto his lap. He cradled Jack's head unto his chest, looking at his eyes as he stroked his bright green hair in the softest way.

"Jack, Jack please talk to me." Mark whispers.

Jack blinked. His eyes looked dead.

"Not like this." Mark says. "P-please, not like this. Not Jack. J-Jack, he's-" a sob.

Jack smiled faintly. He struggled, but was able to mouth out the words.

Mark was crying now, knowing what was going to happen. Sobs bursts through his body and he mouths the words back.

Jack spasmed, his body jolting and curling so much. Mark held him through it.

"I'm so sorry, Jack." Mark's voice broke out.

Sorry that he couldn't help him through this pain, sorry that he couldn't make this better. Sorry that his life was ending this way. Sorry that he couldn't run away, couldn't leave him behind. Sorry he was sorry. So fucking sorry.

Jack turned, and bit Mark. Mark grunted, but didn't scream.

_I love you, Mark._

_I love you too, Jack._


	5. Talk Me Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious, the title is a song from Troye Sivan's Blue Neighborhood
> 
> [ Sorry that I hadn't updated in a while, life was a bit more hectic that usual. ]

The room was quiet.

The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and even that was still too quiet. Breathing in, he felt how tense he was, despite the fact that he was lying on his soft bed, dressed in the comfiest sweater he could find and grey sweatpants. His chest ached, but it was more emotional than physical. It felt as though his heart was going to explode. Thousands of thoughts were flying through his head, but none of those made sense at the moment. His phone was still in his hand, atop his stomach.

Breathing out, the tenseness in his body didn't leave, and he felt as though he was just breathing for the sake of it. If he didn't need to breathe, then he would be laying as still as a corpse. But that was the funny thing, breathing somewhat reminded him that he was still alive. His blue eyes stared at the ceiling in darkness. He was an idiot.

Taking another deep breathe in, he ruffled up his green hair a bit, starting to doubt. Did he get the message he had sent? Was he still coming over? Should he just go to sleep and pretend that he never sent that text? This time he sighed out, a long dreary one. He was being dramatic again, overthinking about little things making his head go all over the place. It probably hasn't been that long since he sent it either, it was probably only five minutes ago or something.

The Irishman would never say it out loud but, without him around, life was dull, and time seemed to flow a lot more slower than usual.

The knock from his window finally made him snap out of his thoughts. Unconsciously, he felt a small smile sneak into his lips. Getting up, the green-haired man walked towards his window. He opened it, and was greeted by warm brown eyes encasing his blue ones. He felt his breathing hitch, he was here.

Wordlessly, the newcomer climbed into the room and stood in front of the Irishman. Despite keeping a neutral expression, his eyes seemed to shine with worry, and caution. It sent butterflies into his stomach to see how much the other seemed to care about him, even though the thought was hardly vocalized.

"Everything fine, Jack?" he asked, his voice soft and safe. Unknowingly, he had already calmed him down with just the sound of his voice.

"I'm okay Mark." Jack says and his smile grows. Mark is a tad relieved to see that expression. 

Lately, the two don't get to see each other much, the calls and texts were still as frequent as ever, but they were to busy too meet up sometimes. It worried Mark a bit as he didn't like the fact that he hardly saw his best friend. Though Jack never mentioned it, Mark knew that he was missing the nights they had with one another. He didn't say it either, but he was missing it too. 

They were still standing in front of the window, eyes glued to the other, as if absorbing all the little details they could get. They didn't talk, didn't even say a greeting to each other. It seemed as though the moment of realization that they really were in front each other was still sinking in. 

Jack stared at Mark's red hair, it looked so much softer in the moonlight. His slight stubble, the slight bags in his eyes he knew was due to fatigue from overworking. He looked at how the grey hoodie framed his body, and his sweatpants loose. He must have been asleep, or at least, was about to be. He took in the way Mark was standing, the way he was breathing, the way he was looking at him. Jack made tiny shots of these to store them as another loving memory.

Mark on the other hand, was a bit nervous as to why Jack had texted, but that hardly seemed to matter at the moment. He stared at Jack's hair, bright and green and a reminder of a fond memory in his life. His eyes, God his eyes, were oh so blue, and filled with oceans of emotions. There was doubt, fear, fondness, and love shining through. Mark looked at how adorable Jack looked, in his too big sweater and sweatpants. But there were also bags under his eyes, and a bit of tenseness in his posture.

Finally, Jack broke the silence.

"It's just for tonight but, can we just- sleep?" Jack says, his voice was unsure, shy even. He looks at Mark, and is smiling still, but only now does the red-head realize that his smile didn't seem to reach his eyes. Mark hardly sees Jack like this, so something must be going on.

Most people would press on and ask why Jack was acting this way, and then vainly try to comfort him in some way. Putting an arm around him, effectively imposing on his personal space, and telling him things would get better, feeding him lies or even truths that he did not want to believe. But Mark wasn't most people. The red-haired man simply removed his hoodie, making him shirtless, then removed shoes and socks. He went to Jack's bed, and motioned for him to come over.

Jack smirked a bit at the other's obedience, but was silently grateful that he had Mark as a best friend. He wasn't pressured to do or say anything to him. Mark knew that Jack would tell him whatever was bothering him when he was ready. That was the one of the many things he loved about their relationship. They both knew what the other needed without having to voice it out. He laid down next to Mark. Wordlessly, Mark wrapped his arms around Jack, spooning him.

Jack settled in Mark's arms, positioned in such a way that Mark's mouth would be on his neck, his body curled up comfortably. His sweater rode up a bit and Mark's arms were wrapped around his torso, a hand placed unto his bare stomach. Mark kissed Jack's neck and hummed out a soft melody, causing the Irishman to sigh happily at the motion. It felt so warm, and soft. Both were easily comforted when the other is around, whether they were near each other or not, but when this happens, it just takes that to a whole other level.

It was a type of intimacy that they didn't do very often, and was a very rare thing. But there were times when they just needed each other. When life seemed to be weighing on them a bit more heavier than normal. Times where there seemed to be a necessary need for a special kind of comfort that didn't involve words. Clearly, this was one of those times.

Jack's heart melted at the soft sound of Mark humming and the feeling of his heartbeat. Butterflies were in his stomach, and there was a distinct feeling of fondness radiating from the other. It was no longer silent.

Jack immediately fell asleep.


	6. Fools

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it isn't obvious, I listen to Troye Sivan a lot.

Jack was tired. His posture was slouched, and he looked as though he could drop dead at any moment. There were bags under his eyes, and he didn't even attempt to smile. It was strange for a number of reasons. One being that he was rarely tired, if at all. To put the words tired and Jack in the same sentence was just, _unlikely_. He was such a bright and energetic young man, all smiles and laughter and cheer. He could make anyone in the same room feel so much more happier by just smiling, but he wasn't even doing that as much. It worried so many people as to why he was acting this way. One of those people being his best friend, Felix.

He would pester Jack, asking what was wrong and if there was anything he could do to help. Jack would always say _no, there was nothing to worry about_ , but the Swede would still ask every chance he got. He would even go the extra mile and be a lot more nicer to him, thinking that Jack didn't notice. 

But Jack had definitely noticed. It was too off-putting to the green haired man, to see Felix not even bothering to hide how concerned he was anymore.

Jack could understand though, if it was Felix who was acting like this, he would have done the same thing. But it still didn't change the fact that seeing the guy being so hen-like was the strangest thing in the world. Jack sunk into said best friend's couch, phone in one hand, soda in the other. Thinking that he shouldn't have come over.

"So Jack, feeling any better?" the blond Swede says.

_Speak of the devil and he shall come._

"Felix, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm fine, and nothing is going on." The Irishman sighed out before he was interrogated further. It was beginning to become routine, saying things like that.

The green haired man looked at Felix and saw the absolute doubt in his eyes. Even he could tell how bad that lie was, but then again, he didn't really care anymore. 

But Felix asked something that shocked Jack down to his core.

"Is this about Mark?" 

Jack gulped, trying to play a cool expression that he knew was not working. "What about him?"

"Jack, don't lie, it's always been about him."

And for a moment, Jack wanted to tell him, wanted to say everything that he had been hiding under this facade. To pour out everything he had and just cry his guts out, whining about how unfair the world is and how much he hated it. He wanted to say something, anything.

But he didn't. Because he promised him, promised that this something, whatever it was, would only be between them.

"Look, whatever you're thinking Felix, that's not it. I'm just... going through a bit of a rough patch right now. You know there isn't anythin' that's going on between me n' Mark."

Felix gave him a look that said, _really? that was the best you could come up with?_ "Jack, there's always been something going on with you and Mark." he said, matter-of-factly.

And Jack... panicked. He mumbled a quick, 'I-I have to go.' And left while he had the chance. He knew that Felix would probably pester him about it tomorrow, or the day after that, or whenever he saw Jack. But Jack resolved not to think about it. He'll deal with that problem when the time arose.

As for everyone else, they seemed to have cooled down somewhat. No one asked if he was fine every five seconds, you know, _besides Felix._ Either they didn't care about him much or he was getting better at pretending that everything was fine. Jack would like to think it was the latter. He always tried to smile better, and even he had to admit that it came out a bit more strained nowadays. It never really reached his eyes and he actually had to make a genuine effort. It just wasn't the same.

Reaching his destination, he walked into his apartment, knowing exactly who was waiting for him. If the text he received five minutes ago were right.

Opening the door, a golden retriever immediately bounded up towards him. Jack laughed a real, genuine laugh and sat down so he could pet one of the two of his most frequent visitors.

"Hey Chica." Jack smiled again. "It's so great to see you. I wonder, is your dad around?"

Chica just barked in response and licked Jack's face. Jack laughed again, but felt a bit sad while doing so. It was nice to know that something so simple could still make him laugh, but it was sad that he didn't laugh as often as he wanted to anymore.

Jack sat the couch in his living room and Chica proceeded to sit right next to him, her head on his lap. Giggling slightly at the dog's antics, he turned on the television and petted the dog, knowing that Mark was coming later on.

_~le time skip_

Jack was beginning to get drowsy when the door opened and Mark walked into the room. Without saying a word, he settled into the spot next to Jack, putting an arm around him and laying the green haired man's head unto his shoulder. Jack sighed in comfort, and snuggled closer to the source of warmth. They stayed there like that, no words between them necessary. Being wrapped around Mark, a dog in his lap, Jack felt calm. He felt like he was home.

It's in moments like these where Jack could pretend. He could pretend that they were a lovely couple living in a small house on a hill, together with Chica for company. They could be married, imaginary silver bands on their fingers. He could paint out any kind of fantasy in this position, letting the thoughts slide into his head before he diminishes it the next morning.

It's stupid for him to think that, Jack knew. Even when Mark turned his head, kissing his lips he knew that it was only empty. Even when that kissed turned heated, when Jack could feel the raw lust in his skin, he knew that there was nothing there. And in the morning, when everything was over and he was the first to wake up -he was always first, he would stare at Mark's peaceful face and know that it was only his heart that was aching. It was only he who was hiding and hurting over something he didn't want to name.

And he wishes, wishes for something to happen, for something to change. He wants and he yearns and he aches as he slowly hums a silent tune, his hands softly brushing through his friend's dyed red hair. It's stupid, he thinks, how far he's willing to go to be with Mark. Even to just pretend. 

But he couldn't help it, not when he sees Mark like this, laying next to him so comfortably. He couldn't help but fall deeper and deeper into this bittersweet nightmare. It's one dream that he doesn't want to wake up from. And as Mark opens his brown eyes, warm and soft, mumbling a raspy 'morning,' Jack places his forehead against the other thinking,

_for him, I'd continue to be a fool._


	7. Montague, Capulet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Been a while... Yeah I'm sorry about this chapter.

   His sword was on his side, ready to strike. As time goes on he starts to feel more tense, knowing something, whatever that is, is bound to happen. The calm before the shit storm. And damn it if he can't help but feel that death is brushing on his shoulder.

   A hand pats his back, and his blue eyes turn to meet the brown ones that he knew was waiting. Their foreheads press together, and the blue eyes fall shut, resting, relieved for just this one moment.

   Slowly his eyes open again.

   "Mark." the whisper is soft, yearning. The strain of it so loud it almost hurts to the one recieving it, even though they share that same pain.

   Without another word their lips meet in a familiar dance, one that is not easily forgotten, despite the time spent apart. When they seperate Mark looks again at those deep blue eyes. So trusting, so full of emotion. So much like the colors he wears.

   It wasn't the first time Mark hated that color.

   "Jack, we-we can't keep meeting up like this." He begins. It's a risky move, but it's the only option that he can think of.

   Jack looks at him straight in the eyes, piercing him at his heart. And there it is again, that color of a deep blue.

   "Is there- Is there someone else?" his voice is quieter than usual, uncertain. But this isn't unusual to Mark. To him, his voice has always sounded this way. In the familiar whisper he hears when they meet, hidden beneath the trees in a place that he sees in his dreams. The only place where they could even hope to be.

   "No, there isn't. You know there isn't." and there never will be.

   "Yeah, but-" he stops.

   Mark understands. Someone of his stature, of his status, could easily be taken away. Who could miss the oppurtunity? Young Mark Fischbach of the Montague family, son of the cherished daughter, possible heir of half of Verona's fortune. All it takes is some rich noble, some daughter of some asshole merchant and enough money to satisfy his parents to stow him away.

   But that won't happen. Mark will make sure of it.

   "Jack, run away with me."

   Jack's breath hitches.

   Mark begins talking before Jack could even say a word.

   "Look Jack, hear me out. We can't possibly be together here. We can never have a happy life here. If we stay any longer, I'll-I'll go fucking insane. I-"

   "Shut up." Jack says. He doesn't even yell, he doesn't need to.

   How dare he propose such-such impossible things? How dare he continue to wrench Jack's heart, twisting it into an unbearable, ugly thing. How can he make Jack feel this way? How can he make Jack loathe the blue that he wears; loathe the savior who brought him out of the streets. How can he feel such hatred towards his master? His dear friend who even bothered with his existence, accepted him when no one else would.

   How can he still want Mark, still love him anyway?

   Without a word, the subject of his thoughts wraps his arms around him as tears drip down Jack's cheeks. His hands desprately grip on to Mark's clothes, clutching on like it's the only thing that's keeping him together -because it is.

   "Jack, I can't fucking bear this anymore. I want to be with you Jack. I want to hold your hand and not be afraid of what anyone says. Please, please let me." Maybe it was the pleading in his voice. Maybe it was the way Mark carresed his hair and cheek. Maybe it was the way they gripped each other's hands like there was nothing left.

   There probably wasn't.

   "Okay." Jack murmurs quietly, so quietly he thought Mark didn't hear it. But if the tightened grip around his shoulders wasn't proof enough, the tears that stained it was.

   And so it was, with the moon as their witness, the two young men swore together a promise of a wish that was embedded on their hearts and souls.

 

* * *

 

   Jack sighed as Ethan continued on to banter about striking the Montagues. Of course, Jack didn't believe a word he said, Ethan is about as harmless as a fly. He couldn't properly strike with his sword even if he wanted to. But he listened anyway. Everyone knows how he can't get better company, even if he wanted to.

   But then servants of the Montagues had entered, dressed in such an opposing red. Ethan bit his thumb, and Jack wished he was no longer here. Before he knew it, the two parties were shouting at one another, and Jack had to draw his sword to parry the strike that would have delivered a fatal blow.

   "What is the meaning of this??" Hearing the voice he knows, Jack stands, sheathing his sword. He looks behind him to see Mark, his sword drawn and a question in his eyes.

   Before he can explain out comes Tyler, cousin of Jack's master.

   "You dare to draw your sword among servants!!?" he accuses, and though Mark tries to persuade him otherwise it is too late, and a fight begins. Though Jack wishes not to, his heart roots deeply for Mark, the opposing party. His heart aches everytime Tyler delivers a swing and he hopes with every fiber of his being that Mark wouldn't get hurt.

   The fight escalates even further with the Lords of the houses suddenly appear on the scene, Swords about to clash as the crowd suddenly becomes too much for him. And then, Prince Robert drops into the scene, scolding the Lords for such disappointing behavior in his lands. As the crowd parted, Jack looks back, seeing Mark already looking at him in worry.

   Looks like it will be a while before they see each other again.

 

* * *

 

   "Hey, what's got you so distracted tonight bud?" Ethan says, snapping Jack out of his thoughts.

   "Oh-uh nothing, don't worry about it."

   Ethan scoffed. "Yeah right, but whatever, I don't care about your problems anyways, I got drinks to drink and girls to meet, so see ya later ya bummer."

   And with that, Jack was left alone again. He sighed. Being in parties was exhausting. Even though he didn't want to be here, he knew that Felix would throw a fit if he didn't show up. It didn't really make sense to Jack since they couldn't talk in these situations, with all the gossip and everything.

   He felt a tap on his shoulder and he looks to his left.

   "Come with me." a familiar voice whispers into his right ear, and he is soon dragged away from the bustle of the party. As if he knows where he's going, the masked 'stranger' brings him to the deepest corner of the private gardens. Once he's sure they're alone, Jack speaks.

   "What the fuck are you doing here you asshole!! You'll get caught!!"

   Mark only laughs in return. "Don't worry Jack, no one else knows it's me. Besides, we're alone you know." he wiggles his brows.

   "You fucking idiot!!" Jack laughs, playfully pounding Mark's chest.

   Brown eyes meet blue, and once again, they are locked in each other's embrace. They hold on to each other tight as their foreheads press together.

   "I thought I wouldn't see you again." Mark murmurs softly. Jack makes a faint noise of agreement as he pecks the other's lips. They stay like that for a while. Telling each other words of endearment, bidding the stars as keepers of their secrets. All too soon, Mark has to move away.

   "Must you go?" Jack says, still in the arms of the other.

   "I must." he replies. "My cousin and my lady is still in that house, I will have to take her home."

   "Curse the responsibilities of noblemen such as you." Jack mutters, but kisses Mark goodbye as he goes to find the young woman.

 

* * *

 

   "You-you are in love with a Montague!!" Jack nearly shrieks. Felix shushes him quickly, glaring at him as if they'd gotten caught.

   "Fuck- Yes Jack, I am. And it scares me like all hell. I don't know what to do." Felix sighs, sitting on his bed, head in his hands. Jack plops next to him.

   "Fuck Jack, I don't know how or why but I'm fucking in love with her alright? And I fucking hate it." Felix says once again. Jack pats his dear friend's shoulder. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. Could he give advice to someone who's stuck in the same situation as him? Would it even make a difference?

   But as he looks at his master, no, his friend, he can't help but feel the angry feeling in his chest. The burning ugly thing that he couldn't keep on a leash. He can't help but loathe Felix in that moment, for being so pathetic, for being like him. The words leave his tongue before he's realized he's said them.

   "Felix, she's a Montague. No matter how much you love each other it will _never_ happen."

   Felix slaps him.

   "What the fuck would you know!!" he yells, "You don't know what it's like!! To be in love with someone you shouldn't; To be stuck in some never-ending nightmare where everything fucking hurts you!!!"

   With each word, Jack loathes him more and more.

   "You think I don't fucking know that!!" Jack yells back.

   "You think I don't know what it fucking feels to be in love? To fucking hate every fucking piece of my soul for being this way? To continuously hate myself for the shit I feel?  
   How long have you known this girl, a fucking night? I've been in love with him for _years_ Felix. I had to endure so much suffering, so much fucking pain and you fucking dare to say some sort of bullshit has your heart aching?  
   Don't make me laugh you shithead, because you've barely scratched the surface."

   Jack breathes heavily, the words he's said sinking into him heavily as the moments pass. The shocked expression on Felix's face doesn't even help to ease his guilt. How could he fucking say that to him, his best friend? The one who he's cared for, the one he's cherished for so long?

   When did Mark replace him?

   "Jack-" Felix starts, but Jack shakes his head.

   "Not- not right now. I need to fucking think."

   Jack leaves the room.

 

* * *

 

   In the end, Felix apologizes, and so does Jack. He ends up breaking down, crying as he tells Felix everything. Felix says nothing as Jack cries, the weight finally llifted off his shoulders.

   It's been a while since they'd been this close.

 

* * *

 

   When Jack meets Mark again they stand behind the church, hidden under the canopy of trees in the afternoon sun. Jack has come escorting Felix, and Mark has come escorting lady Marzia. His best friend immediately dashes towards her, and Mark steps aside as they share an embrace.

_That must be her._ Jack thinks. _I've never seen her up close before._ And indeed no one has. Marzia has lived a closed, sheltered life. Hidden away from the prying eyes of the land's countrymen. She is as pure as she could be. In Felix's arms she appears to look like a young maiden who has come to be with her husband once more.

   "Hey." Mark says, draping an arm around his waist. "Let's leave them alone for now." and he steers Jack away, who is still looking at the couple. Marzia shoots them a questioning look at how close they appear, and Felix laughs as he explains the situation.

   The lovers spend their afternoon in their beloved arms, whispers of love and affection passing through them like a breeze.

   "Jack." Mark begins, and the blue-eyed man feels it now, the beginnings of a storm.  
"I have a carriage prepared. All the affairs have been sorted. We can leave tonight."

   Jack's breath seems to stop at those words. And he can just picture it. The house with the farm, their love unhidden, a little paradise all for themselves. Together, at long last. He should say yes. He could say yes. He can finally make those dreams a reality.

   But something stops him.

   "What about Felix? And Marzia? What-what will they do?" he hates himself for saying it. He hates himself for being upset at his supposed happiest moment.

   "None of that matters know, it's no longer in our affairs what they do." Mark looks deep into Jack's blue eyes, willing him to believe it. Willing him to truly leave everything behind. Because none of that should matter to them anymore.

   But the reality of what they're doing becomes clear in Jack's eyes, and he sees the desprate look Mark sends him. He feels the love, the deep undying connection that stays heated between them. They press foreheads once again, and Mark closes his eyes shut, knowing what Jack would say.

   "Not yet Mark." Jack says. "Not until Felix and Marzia are happy." and Mark sighs in understanding once again. He knows Marzia as much as Jack knows Felix. Marzia is his sister, his everything. She is the person he's always cared for, always protected.

   Until Jack, that is.

   But abandoning her is just- too much.

   "Okay." Mark answers. "Okay."

 

* * *

 

   As the sun sets the Friar approaches them, ready to begin.

   The marrige is happy one, but also full of pain and sadness. As their their bond strengthens, Mark and Jack act as witnesses as Friar Bob leads the ceremony. They look on as Felix shares a kiss with Marzia, happiness blooming on their faces.

   Though bitter, the two are happy to be part of such a sacred sacrament. And in the blissfulness full of the tender love of youth, Mark kisses Jack on the cheek, smiles stretched on everyone's faces.

 

* * *

 

   It wasn't supposed to be like this.

   He should've stopped Tyler that morning, when he decided to walk into the town, in search of the sheltered maiden. He should've said something, when Tyler began insulting the Montagues, Ethan and the rest playing along. Maybe of he did something, anything, it wouldn't have ended this way.

   When they encountered Mark and the others of the Montague house, he should've said something when Tyler began to insult them, and accussing them of nonsense. But he could only parry when someone had moved to strike him.

   The battle grew more and more intense but Jack's mind was on someone else. He couldn't, wouldn't bear to see Mark get hurt from a stupid feud that no longer bore any reason for such animosity, such hatred.

   But he could only watch as Lady Marzia stopped the fight, as Tyler insulted a woman. And when he moved to strike her, Jack dared to act.

   He parried Tyler's strike, moving to protect Felix's wife.

   Astonished, everyone around them was shocked still. Only the resounding clanng of swords echoed in their ears.

   "What treachery is this!!" Tyler bellows at Jack. "You dare move to protect the enemy, to block your master's blade!"

   "You are not my master, Lord Felix is." Jack replies instantly. "And I shall not stand for you to strike a woman for such petty accussations."

   And so the fight began, blue battling blue. Strike for parry, parry for strike. The match was at a stalemate, and neither could overthrow the other. But Jack was the finest swordsman in the land, third to Felix and Mark respectively. He will not lose to someone he does not consider a challenge.

   Tyler felt to his knees, humiliation etched on his features. It is here that Jack should deliver the finishing blow. He raises his sword to do just that, but he stops.

   "Do not think for a moment that I will kill you because of your own insolence." Jack mutters, and lowers his sword. For his intention has only been to protect Lady Marzia, not to commit murder.

   But the other has come to kill. Without warning, he pulls a blade out of his sleeve and strikes.

   The blood splatters.

   Mark falls to the ground with a loud thud. Marzia screams.

   The Capulets run away from the scene, and it appears as though Jack has commited Tyler's crime. His hands stained a deep crimson red, covered in blood; covered in _his blood._ He always hated that fucking color.

   Jack sits, and bring Marks head onto his lap, yelling at Marzia to get someone, anyone at this point. "Stay with me Mark, stay with me please fuck, _please!_ "

   Tears flow down his eyes, hitting Mark's face.

   "D-Don't cry Jack, e-everything's gonna be alright." his breathing is harsh, and he feels unbearable pain on his side, but he couldn't care, not when he sees Jack crying like that.

   "W-We're gonna get out of here, J-Jack. We're g-gonna leave this place and b-be together."

   Sobs wreck through his body as he clutches the hand Mark brought unto his face. He clutches hard, he cries hard, but doesn't dare to close his eyes, doesn't dare to waste any moment they have.

   "Pl-please don't go Mark. I love you so much." he says, pressing their foreheads together once more.

   "I love y-you too, Jack." he says.

   And they share a kiss, soft and sweet, desprate emotions clinging on to their chests. It is everything they've ever felt for one another, shared in one kiss. One soft tender moment as their lips dance to the familiar rhythm of their beating hearts.

   When Mark pulls back it is because he can no longer lift his head. His eyes are closed and his lips in a soft smile. If he imagined the blood away, Jack could see him sleeping, taking an afternoon nap as he hummed Mark's favourite song. That day, he felt peaceful.

   At this moment, all he could feel was pain.

 

* * *

 

   When Marzia had returned with everyone -Felix, Montagues, Capulets, and the townspeople who had followed them, they found nothing but two corpses at the scene. Two bodies who shared an embrace at their final moments.

   Marzia cried loudly on Felix's shoulder, loud crushing sobs that shook everyone around them into grief. Felix hugged her with all his might, because she was the only thing who was keeping him sane. Unbeknownst to him tears flowed his cheeks for everyone to see.

 

* * *

   

   The funeral was a silent affair. Only Felix, Marzia, their parents as well as Mark's parents, were in attendance. Friar Bob held the ceremony, and they were buried side-by-side, like every other married couple. But they were buried in the Montague's private cemetery, as a stark reminder to both families as to what they had done.

 

* * *

 

   When Marzia and Felix had kids they named their son Mark, and their daughter Jaclyn. And the story of their dearest friend's, siblings really, remained in their hearts, and the hearts of those in the land. Their tale remembered forever, and written in the books as a memory.

   A memory of foolishness and a tale of love.

   A tale that would become legend for future generations.


	8. Cold Coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhhh It's been a few months already?... Uhh here.

     He pushed his round glasses up his nose, continuing to scroll through his twitter feed. Liking, retweeting, following, unfollowing, killing time until his shift decides to promptly end.

     In his peripheral vision, he watched the only customer in the room; the only one who would actually bothered to show up here at this time of the day. The only person he's seen while 'working.'

     He looked as the other stared down at their own feet, the ripped black converse tapping the ground with impatience.

     He will admit to his curiosity. He actually knew the guy from school. With his loud, green hair and even louder voice, it was hard to miss him from a mile away. But it was strange to see him here, in a silent café in the other side of town, at a time where no one else could possibly be around.

     It was even stranger that he was as silent as the dawn. There was still the _tap-tap-tap_  of his shoes, but other than that he barely made a peep. If he wasn't the only one here he probably wouldn't so conspicuous. Which was a miracle in itself, considering how he usually was.

     He snapped out of his thoughts when the microwave dinged. Wordlessly, he takes out the bagel and pours a cup of coffee. He slowly approached, but it didn't seem to matter since the guy wasn't really looking at him. He seemed to be deep in thought, staring at the window, then at his wristwatch, then back again.

     He was shocked out of his wits when the soft clatter of a plate and a mug pulled him away from his mind.

     "Thanks... Felix." The punk barely muttered after reading the nametag.

     "No problem." Felix awkwardly replied.

      _Apparently_ , the name of the student body president or head of basically every school activity didn't ring into his mind... Or he was thinking too much, which was evident with how harshly he was glaring at the door, at how his hands fumbled on his bracelets and wristbands. Or the annoying _tap-tapping_  foot once again hitting the floor.

     "Anything else?" Felix says, feeling obligated to do something.

     The other shook his head, not even looking in his direction. He shrugged and went back to his position behind the counter. He opened up one of the many simulator games on his phone, glaring at the screen as the pixelated dog fell down the pachinko-like minigame.

     The bell dinged as another person entered the café, and Felix relucantly looked away from his phone to see... An admittedly attractive grown man.

     The squared-glasses framed his face, highlighting his almond eyes. He was dressed in a proffessional suit that _suited_ him, - _heh_ \- better than most. Felix was easily taller than him, but there was something about how he carried himself that made him appear bigger than he was.

     The punk kid stood up immediately, chair clattering somewhat, but he didn't care about that. Their eyes locked, blue meeting brown, gazes so intense it sent goosebumps up Felix's spine. Though it was only a moment, it felt like hours, and he honestly considered leaving the room before some sort of storm took place.

     But before he could the stranger turned to face Felix, thankfully without any sort of fervor.

     "Felix, is it?" he says, reading the nametag. And boy,  _that voice could fucking kill._

     "Yes sir, what would you like?" He shakily responded, and he offered a smile -more of a grimance really.

     He felt pressured to be polite, with his back up straight and hands on his sides. Every instinct in him screamed that he should _definitely_  not be here. But he couldn't really do anything other than bear the awkwardness of being an utter outsider.

     "Just a cup of coffee if you don't mind." The stranger requests.

  
     "Coming right up." Felix says in his ' _this-is-my-job-so-I-have-to-be-nice_ ' voice.

     Clenching and unclenching his sweaty palms, Felix turned away to get a mug and the coffee. Behind him, he could hear both people take their seats. Even though every single colleague he had have probably done this once in their career of being here, and he normally didn't give a shit, not to mention it was wrong, this was a kind-of exceptional case. He actually knew one of the people involved. Curiosity got the better of him, and he listened in, pushing his glasses up his face.

     "You wanted to see me, Mark?" The punk begins without any hesitation.

     Mark, so that was the stranger's name. Seems... Ordinary for a man who seemed anything but that.

     "In a moment." he says, voice quieter than it was previously.

     There was a long, pregnant silence as Felix placed the cup of coffee on the table. He felt too tense as he looked at Mark once again. He hated confrontation, whether he was a part of it or not. It always gave him the sort of anxiety that makes him want to run to the hills, or be shut up in his room, covered in blankets.

     "Anything else?" Felix asks, trying to have some semblance of normalcy.

     "No, that would be all thank you." Mark says, lifting the mug with his left hand.

     It was then that Felix noticed a golden band on his ring finger, different from the black and gray ensemble the man wore. Felix gulped, not really understanding what was going on, but having an inkling of something in his head. He left the two to be as he went behind the counter once more.

     But Felix didn't stay, he walked through the opening leading to the kitchen, wanting to give the two some form of privacy. But still being curious, he hid next to the door, right where he could still hear what they were saying.

     It was silent aside from the tapping of a foot, louder than before. -or it felt like it was louder anyways.

     "Jack," _a long tired sigh_  "Jack, just-look, I can't do this anymore."

      _Can't do what anymore?_

    "Can't do what anymore??"

      _Hey!_

   "I can't do this, Jack. Whatever _this_ even is."

 

     Silence.

 

     "Are-" _gulps_  "Are you breaking up with me?"

     Oh God. Whatever Felix expected, it wasn't, _it definitely wasn't_ , this. He shouldn't be eavesdropping. Shit, he shouldn't be here at all. But something makes him stay glued to his position, stuck in the sidelines. Is it his morbid curiosity? The simple fact of witnessing something cruel happening to someone else? Or fear? Fear of getting caught?

     He doesn't know, but he doesn't want to think about it any further.

     Seconds pass and for a moment Felix thinks it was all just some part of his weird imagination. But he hears someone speak.

     "Yes, Jack, I am breaking up with you." says Mark, his voice inexplicably tired, as if he's carrying a weight that cannot be lifted.

     A breath hitches, and then, a long, pained exhale.

     "Do you-" _gasp_ "do you not love me anymore?"

     Oh fuck. Wasn't this guy married or some shit? What the hell is he doing? Having some sick affair with a teenager!? Felix felt so confused, this situation seemed so...  _surreal_.

     "I don't." the answer is not as calm as it should be.

     "Don't fucking lie to me!" Jack yells. "I know that's not fucking true!!"

     "And if it is Jack!?" the other hisses."What then?"

     "You tell me." is the reply. "You tell me whether or not those nights together meant absolutely _nothing_ to you. That everything we've done, _everything_  we've been through, was something only _I_  cared about. That whatever _this_  is... Is completely one-sided."

     And even Felix knows that Mark could never come up with a reply. What the fuck could you even say to that? What would you even do?

     "Jack, _I'm sorry_ , but you know that this will never work. That, we can only be 'together' for so long." The sound of a chair dragging echoes out. Mark probably stood up.  
"You know I have- that I _have_  another life. I have people who _need_  me right now-"

     "Cut the bullshit Mark." Jack interrupts. The loud clattering following him. "I know you don't give two fucks about her."

     A beat.

     "This isn't about _her_." Mark mutters. "This is- this is about you, Jack, _you and Chica_."

     Who the fuck was Chica!? Felix wanted to yell. Is a fucking kid involved in this pile of shit? That'll be the cream of this mess of a cake then.

     "I thought that 'Chica' didn't _exist_." Jack says, frustration draped around his words. "I _thought_ you were filing for a divorce."

     "I thought so too."

     Felix hears the sound of papers slapping on a table (which he is very familiar with, thanks to his shitty-ass teacher.)

     "But the results are here, Jack. She wasn't lying. She _really is_ pregnant."

     Fuck it really is a kid. For fuck's sake, this shit could not get any worse.

     "So what?" Jack whispers. "You're leaving me, for her? That bitch who doesn't even _love_  you? That bitch you were _forced_ to fucking marry?"

     Oh look, an arranged marriage. Felix shouldn't have jinxed this bullshit. Of course the marriage was a fucking sham.  _Of fucking course._

     "Yes." Mark replied. And maybe it was the tone of finality in his voice that made it seem even _worse_. "This is goodbye, Jack."

 

...

 

     Silent, broken chuckles filled the air. The angry font breaking down into the teenager, the child that he was.

     "So that's it huh? This is the end of it all. We just, no longer see each other again..." Jacks voice fucking cracks. Felix curls in on himself, feeling second-hand pain, knowing it's more _agonizing_  than he thinks.

     "This is it, Jack." Marks says softly. "This is... Whatever's left."

     And the dam breaks.

     Felix hears the muffled sobs, he assumes Jack cries while Mark presses him close. They're probably holding on to each other like a lifeline, as if they have absolutely nothing left to live for.

     Probable minutes felt like centuries for everyone involved. Guilt settles on to Felix like a cold, damp blanket on a snowy day. Thoughts racing across his mind but never staying long enough to stick. All he knows is that he is a horrible person, who should not be here.

     Finally, they pull apart. Whispers even Felix couldn't hear are being exchanged. Good, maybe he could put it into his head that he shouldn't be  _so fucking nosy_ , and _respect_  people's privacy.

     A ding sounds, signalling that someone has left the establishment. Felix relucantly stands, but doesn't exit for a while. He really should have thought twice when he decided to cover Marzia's early morning shift. But when you've got a crush on a girl and she asks you to do something with the puppy-dog eyes you don't really say no.

     He exits the room to find the punk sitting there, picking at the tears of his ripped jeans. He considers ignoring and forgetting everything that transpired, but the magic of guilt wears him down.

     "You alright? That uh- That sounded pretty rough." He blurts out. Felix mentally cringed at how idiotic he sounded.

     "Guess you heard all that huh?" Jack mutters.

     Felix presses his lips in a line, and nods.

     "Look, just... Don't tell anyone about this, and _maybe_  I'll set you up with Marzia."

     Felix stares at the green-haired boy. How the fuck does he even know about his crush?? -Actually the entire school knows so he shouldn't ask about that... How does he know Marzia?? Are they friends?? Why-

     "Are you gonna take the deal or not?" Jack says in a perturbed tone. Felix blinks, seeing him pull on the loose threads.

     "Yeah, I guess you're secrets safe with me."

     It always was anyways, Felix isn't a gossip. As someone who stands out a lot he knows how rumors can fucking be to someone. Plus, he doesn't have anyone he wants to share this information with either, so...

     Jack nods, and the silence returns.

     Felix pulls up his phone, going on Facebook this time, and sends Jack a friend request. He scrolls down his newsfeed, and sees several posts of people who's biggest problem is the midterm exams. Heck, he is one of those people.

     What a fucking way to spend a Saturday morning.


	9. Until You Were Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from The Chainsmokers

He shouldn't be feeling this way, not anymore.

But when he unmistakably scrolled through twitter, and saw that picture of him, the spark he thought had died before it could even light up -burned his heart. He loved and hated the feeling of it. It was warm, familiar. It was the feeling of _home._ But it isn't supposed to be _home_  anymore.

Sighing, he clicked the photo to zoom in.

Jack was smiling that familiar grin, blue eyes shining in excitement. His hair was still green from the time they got it dyed together, except in a different shade. He looked happy, happier than he'd ever been.

And someone else was kissing his cheek.

Fuck, Mark could feel his insides twist and his chest clench at the sight. Why was he feeling this way? Was he _jealous_? He couldn't be, no - _he shouldn't be._

He was the one who broke things off in the first place.

God, it still felt like it was yesterday, when Mark woke up in his bed, groggy from  ~~probably one of the best nights of his life~~ last night. He wandered into the kitchen to see Jack sitting in the counter, sipping on black coffee.

Jack smiled at him, and Mark uttered a sleepy, "good morning." in return.

It was peaceful, homely.

_"We should... break up."_

As he thought, Jack threw a fit. There was yelling, a lot of yelling, and tears from both sides. ~~he hated seeing Jack cry, he just wants the best for him.~~  Mark couldn't explain why they had to break up, he just knew that they should, that this relationship would never work out.  ~~he was afraid then, afraid of this thing in his chest.~~

It was for that shitty explanation that Jack stayed for a couple more weeks, before breaking it off himself.

"You don't seem to care about me anymore." he said, but it wasn't with any anger. No, he looked at Mark as though he was dead inside. 

~~Mark knew he wouldn't be able to take it anymore.~~

"You-you've never even told me you loved me either."

And he left, ~~just like everyone else~~ never to enter Mark's life again. It was strange how easily they separated from each other, considering that they lived close by and had the same circle of friends, but Jack soon left to another country and now Mark rarely hears from him -if at all.

But that was ages ago. Their relationship happened, then ended. Heck, they've even started to skype a bit more often again. He should be over this.

But he wasn't.

It was in odd moments when these things happened. Something completely unrelated to anything whatsoever, would remind Mark of Jack. Blue things were a common trope, even anime sometimes.  ~~anything and everything would remind him of Jack, he just didn't want to admit it. he's only able to ignore it by keeping busy.~~

But things like these were the worst.

When he sees that person he ~~loves~~  used to love be with someone else, when he sees Jack happier with someone who isn't him, he dies on the inside.

He feels happy that Jack found someone, he really does but at the same time... He feels betrayed almost -which is fucking stupid, he's the ex for crying out loud... He isn't supposed to care anymore.  ~~but he can't help how he feels.~~

It's in moments like these that makes Mark realize that he ~~does~~  did love the little Irishman, that he did in fact give away his heart and soul.

Mark lets out a long silent sigh. He'll get over it.

~~sometimes he just wished he realized it sooner.~~

> _"You found me in the wrong universe. That's all. There had to be one universe were we don't end up together. Here and now just happens to be it. Because you could have loved me forever. And maybe in another universe, I let you."_

_Gaby Dunn_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one was shorter than usual, especially since I hadn't updated in a while.


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